


Dragon Days

by Candamira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Community: hp_nextgen_fest, Cross-Generation Relationship, Dragons, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fandom Snowflake Challenge, HP: EWE, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Not Epilogue Compliant, Past Character Death, Post-Hogwarts, Potions, Prophecy, Wandlore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:25:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5075995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candamira/pseuds/Candamira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Deadly light will bring on a new age of darkness. A new saviour will rise, fair and bright, though born from a family of black."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon Days

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to you, Grace! I hope you have as much fun reading this post-apocalyptic/dystopian adventure as I had writing it. All the best to you, sweet! May your new year of life bring you even more joy and success than the last one. :D
> 
> Thank you and this_bloody_cat for this glorious fest, it was a pleasure to work with you!
> 
> My wonderful alpha and beta readers: nia_kantorka, josephinestone and germankitty, thank you for your invaluable advice, concrit and encouragement. ♥

Draco entered the Great Hall with a grateful glance up at the enchanted ceiling which simulated a perfect summer day instead of showing the true weather outside. His footsteps echoed hollowly and unnaturally loud in the silence closing in on him; as always, the room seemed too empty since they had used three of the formerly four large tables for fuel. One was enough for them, now.

They had kept the fires burning day and night during the first cruel weeks after the solar flares. The magic had been down for nearly half a year, and the sky had been dark and cold from the ashes of the scorched earth.

The scales of his dragonhide cloak clattered on the stone floor as Draco spread it over the slab which bore Harry's name and lay down on it. Today was a good day, the magic was unusually stable and warm as natural sunshine. Closing his eyes against the blinding brightness, he stretched his arms to the sides, meeting only empty space. What he wouldn't give to turn back time and relive the last days he’d had with Harry! Those careless, sun-drenched days of late summer under a blue sky that so treacherously promised an endless number of tomorrows.

It had been these memories which had inspired his idea to bury the victims here, where their souls could escape into the flawless blue sky of the enchanted ceiling. Here, where an eternal sun shone, and nothing hinted at the natural disaster which had struck the earth two years ago. Nothing, except the silence that replaced the chatter of students sharing their meaningless daily adventures while filling their plates with food which Draco couldn't even remember tasting.

Fleeting memories of bright green eyes and wild black hair sent a tingle of longing through his body. The dragonhide rustled under his shifting weight as his fingers skimmed over the soft leather lining of his cloak, searching for the familiar grip of Harry's hand. For a second, muscle memory led him to believe it was there: strong and calloused. But of course it vanished as soon as he became aware of what he was doing.

His head hurt where the engraving of Harry's name bore into his scalp. That was why he always chose this place for his break – he needed the pain to rip him out of his gloom before he could sink in too deep. Though, during the last few months the pain had also been helping to keep his mind focused on Harry. Draco had caught himself thinking of another pair of green eyes and another shock of black hair a bit too often lately.

Just as his thoughts began to wander again, the touch of golden sunbeams on his face turned pale and cold. Draco peered up at the ceiling with one eye: lightning-shaped cracks in the blue quickly widened and revealed the merciless reality. An ashen sky spread from one end of the horizon to the other, the face of the sun now a long-forgotten well of light and warmth. It hadn't made an appearance since erupting into the flares that had burned whatever hadn't been hidden deep below the surface of the earth, in bunkers or dungeons.

With a groan Draco sat up and ran a hand over his face in an attempt to wipe away the sadness and longing. He got up, wrapped his cloak back around himself, and fell into a brisk stride. There was always some work waiting for him; he was running low on many potion ingredients and needed to experiment to find substitutes. Unfortunately, aside from the plants Neville grew inside the castle, the only real resource of new possible ingredients was—

A huge shadow crossed the Great Hall. Draco squinted against the sudden darkness it cast, but didn't recognise the shape of the dragon's wings or tail.

"Dragons!" He broke into a run, yelling his warning down the hallways and staircases. "Dragons! Dragons! Get ready!"

"Dragons, got it!" Al's voice bounced up the stairs, announcing its owner who took two steps at a time to meet Draco. "What kind is it this time? A Horntail again?" 

Draco took in the young man's features, and his heart clenched at the excitement in Al's green eyes. Though Al was pale from the lack of sunlight where his father had been tanned, he looked very much like Harry at that age. Draco's hand itched to reach out and check if his black locks were as silky as Harry's had been. He knew all the small differences; Al's nose and cheeks weren't dusted with freckles like Harry's, nor did he need glasses, and his forehead didn't bear the famous scar, but still— 

"Draco? Are you alright?" Al asked, and Draco hurried to shrug and say, "Not sure if it's a Horntail, but no matter what it is, it means food and clothes, bones and claws, and all kinds of potion ingredients. If we manage to keep the heartstrings intact, who knows, maybe I can even make you a new wand!" 

"Oh, really? A dragonbone wand with dragon heartstring for a core must be extremely powerful!" 

Grey light flooded down from the Great Hall and mingled with the green shine rising up from the giant magical window that separated the dungeons from the waters of the Great Lake. Al's eyes seemed to glow and sparkle in the dimness. Draco smiled at his joy, and tried to remember when he'd last been so excited. Not since the solar flares, that much was for sure.

"What about the others?" he asked. "Who's getting ready for the hunt?" 

Al shook his head. "Nobody. McGonagall has called for a meeting in her office. I was sent to search the castle for you."

Draco pushed his grief aside, and also the need of their small community for food and anything else a dragon delivered. "What? A meeting? In her office? Then it must be really important! Let's go." 

Taking advantage of his higher position on the stairs, he grabbed Al's shoulders and turned him around, nudging him into the direction of the Headmistress' office. Their footfalls rang in the narrow hallway, a clamour of heavy dragonhide boots on withered stone, and the scales of their cloaks rattled softly when they brushed against each other, walking side by side. Al was taller than his father, Draco realised. The missing height difference had been disguised by the stairs, and Al's shoulders hadn't felt as bony in his grip as he remembered them to be from sparring. 

He tried to wrap his head around this new awareness. For two years he had lived in a hazy bubble of denial. But the earth hadn't stopped turning, regardless of her marred surface. Time was passing; life was going on. 

Harry was dead, and Al was becoming a man.

ooo

McGonagall's eyes were as beady and blue as always, and they could still pierce a man like a hot knife sliced through butter. If only they had butter these days... Draco shook off thoughts of food he'd probably never eat again, and tilted his head in a gesture of respect. 

"Headmistress."

"Professor Malfoy, I'm glad you found the time to join us. An old battleaxe like me doesn't have all day to wait."

Draco crooked a smile as he sat down beside Al. McGonagall had survived two wars and the solar flares. But considering her frail form, nobody would think of her as an 'old battleaxe’. 

When she raised both her arms in a last call for silence, the sleeves of her leather robe slid down to her elbows. Draco swallowed at the sight of her thin arms and narrow wrists. While her fingers were still long and her gestures as elegant as ever, her papery skin was covered with age spots and shadows of raised veins ran over the backs of her hands. The only thing which hadn't changed over the decades since the war was her voice – a bit shaky, a bit raspy, yet still loud and determined. 

"As you all know, I'm quite useless these days and spend my time by reliving my youth via my memories in my Pensieve. Today I enjoyed myself very much, diving into a slightly worn memory of an evening I spent with Professor Trelawney, whom some of you knew when she was still teaching Divination. She was a good witch, but easily scared and more than a bit prone to the overly dramatic.

"That's why I didn't pay as much attention to a prophecy she made that evening. I thought it was a product of her always being extremely high-strung, a way of her jittery mind to unwind and release some of the stress. That might also be the reason why I had forgotten most about this prophecy when I extracted the memory of that evening; though I took it seriously enough back then to preserve it and send it to the Ministry to be stored in the Hall Of Prophecy."

Draco's heart went out to his old professor when McGonagall's hand clenched tight around the handle of her dragonbone cane as she stood up, lips pressed together and knuckles white from the effort.

"Take a look at my memory yourself. Then we'll decide what to do." 

Seeing her confident stride as she walked to the black cabinet containing the Pensieve, Draco vowed to get a grip on himself. He knew what it cost the Headmistress to appear strong and optimistic, and to hide the aches and pains her age forced on her. Each morning, he brought her a triad of phials: Strengthening Solution, Murtlap Essence and Wit-Sharpening Potion. She did her best to keep their small community functioning, finding something for everybody to do and joining them by challenging them with projects to improve their living conditions. Draco was aware of the unspoken fact that, should she leave them one day, she relied on him to take over and carry on. 

When the Pensieve slid out of the cabinet, he straightened his spine and lifted his chin. He needed to prove himself worthy of her trust, needed to let go of the past.

ooo

The young Professor Trelawney didn't look much different from the middle-aged witch who had taught Divination when Draco had started Hogwarts: Messy curls, unflattering glasses which dominated her face and made her eyes appear huge and protuberant, and a lot of silky scarves in different colours draped in layers around her neck and shoulders. 

The moment of fond nostalgia vanished the instant she opened her mouth. Draco flinched at her whiny voice and focused on the not much older Minerva McGonagall who was sitting across Professor Trelawney, sipping a steaming cup of tea. The two witches seemed to have met in McGonagall's room, as Draco couldn't imagine Trelawney living in such austere tidiness. 

"Oh Minerva," Trelawney's hands fluttered through the air like birds flushed out of a tree by a cat, "those children are all so very _untalented_. How am I supposed to teach them the subtle art of Divination if they just don't have the gift to see?" 

McGonagall, black hair bound into the simple bun that was her signature hairstyle, sighed and put her cup down on the small table. Her tartan robe rustled as she crossed her feet and folded her hands in her lap. "Sybill, why don't you start with—Sybill?"

Professor Trelawney had gone stiff and rigid unexpectedly, hands and arms frozen in mid-motion. McGonagall picked up her wand, which lay on the table, and summoned her glasses. Just in time. 

With glassy, unblinking eyes and in a deep clear voice that caused the hair at the back of Draco’s neck to rise, Trelawney began to speak. "Deadly light will bring on a new age of darkness. A new saviour will rise, fair and bright, though born from a family of black."

Draco dug his fingernails into the heels of his hands. Born from a family of black – she was talking of him, he was supposed to save the earth! He had to blink several times to make sure he wasn't dizzy from shock, when Trelawney's voice blurred and the scene became obscured by some kind of fog. Only fragments of sentences were understandable while the silhouettes of the two witches remained stock still.

"...can't be prevented or stopped…"

"...cataclysmic fire...dragons will roam the sky...ash storm…"

"...Time Room...Planet Room...hummingbird…"

"Shatter it! Do it! Nooow!" Trelawney's shrill command was still ringing in the air when she jerked out of her trance with flailing arms and sent her cup to the floor, where it shattered in a puddle of milky tea.

ooo

"It's clear what we have to do, isn't it?" McGonagall's frail frame cast a hunched shadow which flickered on the floor as the dragonbone fire in the fireplace danced and sparkled in all colours of the rainbow. 

Draco didn't answer; the question was rhetorical anyway. Someone – he – would have to go to London, find the prophecy and look at it again until the end, which had been fogged over by McGonagall's faded memory. A lethal mission, for sure. Not that he cared much for his life anymore, but still... He kept his eyes on the lively flames; a fire was rare these days, and it was nice to see the grate flicker with colours when days and nights had become a depressing variety of shades of grey. And maybe, if he didn't look up, fate would choose somebody else. 

"Professor Malfoy." McGonagall waited a moment. "Draco." 

He finally tore his eyes away from the blazing flames to meet the old witch's gaze. "Crystal clear, yes. I'll leave tomorrow morning. I’ll need the rest of today for preparations. Neville is familiar with my duties here and will take my place." 

He deliberately didn't add 'until I'm back'. 

McGonagall raised her cane in a feigned gesture of hitting him on the head. "Young man, don't be daft. You won't go to London on your own. Albus will accompany you, his magic is the strongest. Trust my experience with prophecies and the missions they impose on us when I say you'll need it." 

Draco was about to protest. They were quite safe here, this far north, hidden in the Scottish Highlands. He also suspected that some of the Muggle-Repelling Charms were still intact and kept unbidden visitors from stumbling over their threshold. But what horrors would await him on the way to London, he could only guess. Dragons, more dragons, ash storms— 

No. He wouldn't expose Harry's only surviving child to the dangers lurking outside. "With all due respect, Headmistress, but—"

"Of course I'll go with him!" Al stood up at Draco's side, eyes alive with reflections of the multi-coloured flames. His voice was a mixture of an adult's respect for a dangerous mission, and a boy's excitement at the prospect of a new adventure. His cloak's scales whispered against Draco's, the quiet sound making Draco aware of the silence in the room. Everybody was waiting for a decision – _his_ decision. 

Al's arm pressed warm against his side, reminding him of how long it had been since someone had touched him outside of sparring. Draco had avoided Al lately whenever possible, because his feelings for him were bewildering. Al was Harry's son, and Draco didn't trust his heart – he wouldn't give in to temptation as long as he was unsure that his attraction to Al was not just his grief-ridden mind projecting the love he had for Harry on Al. But, maybe, spending some time alone with Al would help him sort the feelings churning in his gut like an amalgam of infatuation, guilt and desire. 

And maybe the mission would be a chance for Al to prove himself. Draco knew all too well what it was like to grow up in the shadow of a famous father, wishing for an opportunity to show the world which cloth one was cut of. Of course Al wanted to prove that he wasn't just a lesser version of his father. 

"Alright." Draco turned on the spot, cloak billowing around him, and almost smashed hard against Al who stood with his mouth open and stared at him. 

"You don't object?"

"No. Come on, we have to think about what we might need, check for still-functioning brooms …" Draco slung an arm around Al's shoulders and dragged him along. Hard muscles moved under his grip, and for a moment he indulged his imagination and pictured them huddled underneath their cloaks, sharing a meal and a cup or two of the drink they’d named ‘dragon brew’, body heat and memories… and quickly reined his thoughts back in. Al wasn't Harry, for fuck's sake, and Draco wouldn't allow their resemblance to make him do things he might regret later. 

"Weapons," he mumbled, letting go of the younger man so sudden as if he were white-hot, and taking the lead. "If the magic goes down while we’re on the road, we'll need all the weapons we can carry. Swords, daggers, and I’ll need my bow and some potion arrows... "

ooo

"You look tired," Al said as they met for breakfast the next morning in the Great Hall. Draco had hoped for some minutes of magic-generated sunshine to brighten his mood, but the magic was down again. The sky was its usual grey, the monotony only interrupted by fast-moving ash clouds, which heralded an abrasive icy wind outside. 

"We'll need our face masks," Draco said with a glance at the ceiling. "And yeah, I'm tired, but I took some Strengthening Potion and will be fine as soon as the effects kick in. Er… I made you something." He shoved a slender leather-wrapped package over the table. 

Al pushed his mug of tea aside so eagerly that the hot liquid sloshed over. "Ah, fuck," he muttered. He whipped his wand out of his thigh holster and aimed it at the puddle. "Tergeo!" 

The tea vaporised, but the table was still a bit damp. Al groaned at the sight and pushed his wand back into the sheath with barely-disguised frustration. 

"Impressive. Why the pinched face? You know you're the only one here who can perform spells even when the magic is down, don't you? McGonagall is right, your own natural magic is exceptionally strong. Well, can't say that it comes as a surprise. Your father was one of the most powerful wizards of our generation, and I guess your mother's fierce temper added some extra strength to yours." 

A shadow crossed Al's flushed face, but Draco pretended not to notice. "Now open your present!" 

Al turned the small package around in his hands. Then his features lit up, and he beamed at Draco, sparks dancing in his green eyes. "You made me a new wand!" 

Draco nodded and watched Al unwrap his gift. "Dragonbone, dragon heartstring, twelve inches, inflexible." 

Weighing the ivory-coloured wand in his hand, Al said, "I thought you were out of dragon heartstring."

"Right, I thought that, too. But then I found a last dried one when I went through my stock yesterday evening to determine what I would need for our journey. Please be careful when you try it out, and do it outside. I’ve never used one in this condition before, and you know that some herbs' effects become stronger when they are dried; maybe that's also true for dragon heartstring."

"Okay, though I don't think you have to worry. It feels good, it hums and—" 

A rainbow of sparks erupted from the wand's tip, traversing the Great Hall from one end to the other, accompanied by the sounds of awe and wonder coming from the other occupants. Ignoring the excited shouts and questions of their fellow survivors, Draco put a hand on Al's which held the wand. "I knew it would love you. How couldn't it? But I think it'd be better if you hid it now before everybody else wants one, too. Though it's too late, I guess." He shot a tired glance at Rose and Hugo Weasley who were already hurrying closer. 

"We'll leave in half an hour."

ooo

They had walked until the magic fired up again. Since then, they had been flying close to the ground at low speed, because the brooms' magic was almost exhausted. It didn't help that they had to fight a strong wintry headwind which chafed every spot of uncovered skin raw despite their sturdy masks and gloves. Pulling down the hood of his cloak to protect his eyes, Draco shifted uncomfortably. The Cushioning Charm had worn off much too soon and, as he unwillingly admitted to himself, he wasn't a trained Seeker anymore. 

Al, of course, didn't show any signs of weariness. On the contrary; he was shooting sparkling rainbows from his wand with boundless enthusiasm and had already Vanished several tons of ash, for what it was worth.

Reluctant to curb his joy by asking him to stop, Draco scanned the sky and horizon for the umpteenth time. Hopefully, Al's magical experiments would stay undetected by dragons or whatever other beasts were roaming the sky or the ground of the wasteland they were crossing. 

If only the magic was more reliable these days. Draco ran a gloved hand along his small supply of Defense Potions, the phials safely tucked away in tight loops sewn to his belt. The draughts and brews were powerful weapons, as were his dragonbone sword and claw dagger. But not even the pressure against his back from his bow and padded quiver, full of potion-filled glass arrows, was able to soothe his anxiety. Without magic, they would barely stand a chance against a dragon.

As far as he could see, they were the only living beings far and wide. Nothing gave him a reason for the anxiety which made him look over his shoulder again and again. The land was too quiet, the air too still—

That was it. The wind had stilled a while ago, and was now freshening up from the north, where movement on the horizon caught Draco's eye. Ash clouds had been crossing the sky since they had left Hogwarts, their elusive charcoal silhouettes a welcome distraction against the endless greyness. But what was forming in the distance would soon be more than a distraction – a storm was building up, the slowly-turning whirlwind massing the singular clouds into a thick black threat of frozen ash particles. Sharp and aggressive, it could abrade the skin and flesh of a living being in seconds, leaving only bare bones behind. 

They needed shelter. Now.

Draco squinted, searching for the smallest anomalies in the flat expanse of barrenness below them. Anything which could provide more safety than their cloaks would do; some rocks, an old riverbed, anything that would take them out of the direct path of a lethal hail of ash.

There! His sweeping gaze stopped at a swell on the horizon ahead. Maybe it was a small hill, maybe just some rocks, or – if they were lucky – the remnants of a house or village.

"Al!"

Al turned around, followed by a trail of colourful sparks. "What?"

Draco pointed in the direction of the looming storm. "An ash storm is coming. We need to take shelter. There is something ahead." He pointed to the south. "It's too far away to see what it is, but we have to give it a try. Let's hope the magic holds until we're there."

Al tensed up at the sight of the quickly-growing storm front. Though it was still far away, he tucked his wand away and bent low over the broom handle. "Let's see what these old boys still have in them," he said, patting his broom. "I don't want to weather that hell with only my cloak to keep me from getting shaved raw if the magic goes down."

Instead of replying, Draco yanked up his broom and whispered a spell to lighten his weight. Luckily, it still worked. He flattened himself against the hard wood of the handle as the broom gained speed. The ground became a blur of grey, and for once he was glad for the wind which pressed his cloak tightly around him from behind and helped to stay ahead of the storm. 

Al was a black ghostly form at the edge of Draco's vision as they raced towards what proved to be remnants of foundations. The debris of a former farm, Draco assumed, taking in the arrangement of broken and eroded walls. The stones were blackened from ash that had been rubbed into their pores by the force of many storms.

"There must be underground store rooms, help me look for an entrance," he said to Al, who stood beside him, broom in hand and wand ready. Draco took out his own and like shadows they glided along the walls, the crunch of gravel under their boots and the swish and scratch of their cloaks' scales across the stones the only sounds in the dead silence of the place. 

The first hard slivers of frozen ash hit his head and back when Draco finally found the entrance to a cellar. The darkness of the storm was right above them; he couldn't see more than the first few steps leading underground. 

"I found an entrance," he shouted over the thrum of grey ice particles hitting the ruins. "Over here!" 

He listened as Al's slow footfalls turned into a run, and couldn't help but break into a smile despite the circumstances when Al skidded around the corner, arms flailing and cloak streaming. 

Their wands carved sharp circles of light into the dry blackness that awaited them after they had left the stairwell behind. The floor of the room was hard-packed earth, only broken up by an old firepit in one corner where others who had sought shelter before had burned whatever wood must have survived the solar flares. Probably some shelves, as pressure marks in the ground along the walls suggested. 

Draco sighed. He could have done with a nice hot fire. After a day in the cold wind, the chill had permeated all layers of his clothes. At least it wasn't as cold in the room as it was outside, where the storm was now in full blast. Hailstones drummed against the ruins of the buildings overhead in unruly gusts, accompanied by the howling of the wind which was growing stronger by the second. 

His wandlight died just when he pointed it into the corner across the stairs. The magic had disappeared again. "Let's sit down over there." 

He waited for Al's Lumos to end, too, but it didn't. The white circle of light wandered over the wall to the corner, its edge shimmering in rainbow colours. "That's… incredible! How do you do it?"

Al's voice was hollow with wonder. "I don't know, it's the new wand… It's so powerful, I wouldn't have realised the magic had gone down if I hadn't seen your Lumos fade. Er… you made it, didn't you know about this?" 

Draco answered Al's question and inquisitive look with a shrug. "No, it's the first dragonbone wand I ever made. But I'm glad that you two are such a perfect match!"

ooo

Replete and sitting side by side on big comfortable cushions Al had conjured, they shared a bottle of dragon brew. It wouldn't compare to the fine liquors Draco's father had prefered, but Draco liked the bitter herbal flavour and the relaxing effect of the dark green liquid just as well. It warmed from the inside, and his skin began to prickle after being cold for so long. 

Thunder clamoured outside, and the dimness of the room was cut by ghostly, blinding white lightning that followed each deafening clap. Draco had seen enough ash storms to picture the sky blazing from multiple thunderbolts happening at once. Hail was coming down in a constant onslaught. 

"Here," Draco said, nudging Al's arm and handing over the bottle. 

"Thanks," Al murmured, and in the light of his wand Draco saw that his cheeks were flushed. Al's profile was sharply outlined by another bolt of lightning, and Draco knew it would only take a few more sips of dragon brew and he’d be able to pretend it was Harry sitting here with him. It would be so easy to give in to temptation. He sighed and leaned back against the wall.

"I hate it when you look at me like that." Al's eyes were narrowed as he gave back the bottle. "I hate it when you look at me and think of him. It makes me feel invisible."

Draco savoured the bitter taste of another swallow, and allowed his eyes to take in Al's lithe body, the shimmer of his hair, and the shine of dragon brew on his slightly parted lips. "What do you want me to think when I look at you?" 

Oh, he shouldn't have asked. He knew it the moment the words left his mouth. This was the road to hell. It wasn't as if he didn't know what Al wanted.

Energy flowed between them, intense and more telling than any words, when Al licked his lips, turning to face Draco. Scales scraped across the wall in his back and the legs of his leather trousers squeaked as he moved. Soft, innocent sounds in any other context, yet they sounded predatory in Draco's ears.

"I want you to think of _me_. I know you loved him, but he's dead. Gone. Like Mum and James and Lily. Like Grandma and Grandpa. Like Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron. Like Bill." Al stared at Draco. "But we, we have to live. I live, and I wish you would start living again, too! This life is so hard. How can it be wrong to wrest any bit of joy from it we can find?" 

Draco swallowed, pinned in place by Al's smouldering eyes. He had no answer to this, and even had he had one, he wasn't sure if his voice would comply. His throat was dry from the heat which welled up between them, and he didn't dare breathe. One word, one spark would be enough to ignite the storm of feelings hovering in the air around them. 

The prickle of his skin turned into a shudder as Al reached out and ran his fingers down Draco's cheek and along his jaw. With burning lungs Draco inhaled deeply and his nerve endings exploded into life. The light catch of Al's fingers on his stubble was almost too much to bear; he had forgotten what it was like to be wanted and to want in return. How each fibre of his being longed to be touched and stimulated. 

Draco closed his eyes for a moment to revel in the feelings flooding his mind, then gave in to the call of Al's proximity. To the allure of his soft young skin and unruly black hair. He would do as Al wished and look at him. There was so much he already knew about Al's body, because it was so much like Harry's. 

When he touched Al's face with his fingertips, Al sat up. The seductive air left his face, he looked very young and vulnerable. He drew a ragged breath, and his voice was a broken whisper. "I'm not imagining this, am I? Please, if you don't really want this – then let’s stop right here and now. But if you want to go on—"

Draco couldn't bear the fear in Al's eyes. In one fluid motion, he cupped his head and pulled him close, silencing him with a kiss. Al's lips were rough from exposure to wind and cold, but warm and compliant, and Draco let go and poured all his long-denied emotions into the kiss. They moved in a rhythm of giving and taking, until a sigh escaped Draco which was answered with a moan. 

As he retreated to check if his anxiety was gone, Al's eyes met his, fierce and challenging. Draco closed the distance between them, licked his way up Al's jaw and whispered, words hoarse with desire, "Looks like we just passed the point of no return, don’t you think?"

Al grabbed Draco's head with both hands, fingertips hot on his scalp, gripping his hair to pull him in and capture his mouth. Draco kissed him back, hard and rough and hungry for his taste and smell, to claim him and chase the worry from his mind. Al moaned into Draco's mouth, hands still in his hair, and Draco needed more, wanted more, wanted to explore that hard and lithe body arching into him. 

Pressing into Al and kissing him like there was no tomorrow, Draco lost himself in the heat of mouth on mouth. His cock had hardened with the first kiss and was now pulsing in a demanding rhythm. A low grunt escaped his lips as he pushed Al down into the cushions and ground into him. It turned into an uncontrolled moan as Al's erection slid alongside his, slow and torturous. Draco knew it wouldn't take long for him to come if they went on, even though they were separated by several layers of leather. It would be enough for a first time, but he wanted Al to know that this was truly about him.

He shifted the grip of his hands from Al's wrists to his hips, thrusting insistently against him. He wanted Al, and Al should feel the strength of his desire. When he retreated a bit, Al's pupils were too large, even for the weak ambient light. 

"Clothes off!" 

Draco didn't recognise his own voice. It was a feral growl which Al answered with a husky laugh. He grabbed his wand and their shirts and pants fell away, cut neatly in half.

Draco nearly choked when he looked at Al naked for the first time. Charcoal-coloured dragon scales covered Al's upper body from his shoulders down to the swell of his hip bones. A tattoo, Draco realised on second glance, so perfectly done that the scales glinted in the light of Al's wand like those of a newly-hatched Horntail. They looked so real that Draco hesitated to touch Al’s skin, half-expecting them to feel sleek and hard. Al seemed to sense his reluctance and took both his hands to press them to his chest. Feeling Al's heartbeat and smooth skin was all Draco needed to start his exploration of the glorious mixture of lithe limbs and hard angles that was Al's body. 

Thunder rumbled above, the storm circling their refuge, and the unforgiving drumbeat of frozen ash almost drowned out Al's sigh of delight when Draco slid a hand down his side and over the length of his cock. Heat pooled where their bodies pressed together in a sizzling line along the seam where their bodies met. Draco was so full and hard, his skin so alive that every touch was sweet torture. As Al's hand closed around the base of his prick, weighing it and gripping firmly to move up and down with aching slowness, he was close to crying out loud. Al didn't know such restraints. He made a low moan as Draco's cock glided over the moistness of Al's pre-come when he ground into him the next time. 

Al's mouth and tongue were all over him, sucking the soft spot under his ear, licking down his jaw. Scraping sharp teeth over stubble, teasing already hard nipples into painfully swollen nubs, blowing hot breath over the toned flesh of his stomach.

Fingertips dug deep into Draco's buttocks as Al's soft lips skated the borderline of coarse hair leading down between Draco's legs. Draco closed his eyes, too close to coming to watch.

"Tell me again, what do you want?" Al murmured, his breath a teasing whisper of warmth over the sensitive skin of Draco's groin. Knowing what Al was really asking for, a reassurance that it was him whom Draco wanted and not Harry, Draco pulled him up and with a growl pressed one foot down on the cushions, flipping them over. Now Al was on his back, and Draco lay on top of him. 

"You," he said, brushing his lips down the line from Al's ear to where his pulse was thumping, nipping the delicate flesh with his teeth. Al made a sound which was neither a moan nor a sigh, tilting his head to expose his neck and grant Draco better access.

"This is about you, Al, only you," Draco whispered into the hollow between Al's chin and Adam's apple and rolled his hips, enjoying Al's desperate wriggle for more friction. Al canted his hips upward, chasing the hard and throbbing length of Draco's dick. 

"I want you," Draco said again, lips still touching Al's moist throat. He twined their fingers together and pulled them over their heads, forcing Al into a submissive sprawl. "Look at me!"

Al's eyes had been hooded, but now they flew open, green irises dark with need and desire.

"I know you're not him. But neither do I know who you really are, deep down inside. I think we're both on this journey to find out about that, aren't we?" Draco licked his lips, enraptured by the flutter of black lashes and the innocent yet captivating smile parting Al's mouth and showing white teeth. 

"Hell, yes. We are." Al's voice was cracking, but he maintained eye-contact and the intensity of feelings sent a new shudder down Draco's spine. He scissored their legs together, searching for every possible inch of closeness. Like before, his body caught fire, and he ground down again into Al.

Thunder and lighting and the constant patter of ice pebbles robbed him of his sense of time. Nothing mattered. The world could fall apart as long as they were safe down here. 

"Take me," Al whispered, writhing, and sounding desperate. Draco's breath caught in his throat. He swallowed and had to close his eyes against the assault of pleasure. Letting go of Al's hands, he followed the outlines of flexing muscles down to Al's shoulders. The velvety fabric of the cushions rasped as he got on his knees, Al's whimper at the loss of warmth and proximity fueling his arousal. 

This wasn't the frame of a trained Seeker as Harry had once been. Al was tall and lanky where Harry had been shorter and more compact. Al's body was still showing the sweet contradictions of early manhood: soft skin and lithe muscles, gained through the hard work that life after the solar flares demanded. Draco lapped up the path between Al's pecs to the hollow between his collarbones. Then he went back the same way and further down, dragging his rough lips across a nipple. He started with a soft lick, which got him a delighted hum, then tested a teasing hint of teeth, which was answered by a choked sound that developed into a deep moan as he sucked the delicate flesh until it was hard and stiff under his tongue.

He lowered his hips until their cocks were only one or two inches apart, his fighting gravity, a solid weight keeping itself upright, and Al's glorious and thick, leaking and glinting in the diffuse light. Sinking deeper and pushing his hips forward, he slowly ran the tip of his cock over Al's length. A strangled sound coming from Al's mouth made Draco look up and meet his gaze.

"Take me," Al said again, the rasp of his voice drifting over Draco's skin, leaving him raw and exposed. Al arched his body until his erection pressed against Draco's, the flare of his pupils an irresistible challenge. Draco tore his eyes away from his flushed face and looked down where their cocks met, glistening with pre-come. It was the hottest thing he had seen in far too long, and it washed away any thoughts of taking it slow. 

His knees dug into firm buttocks, spreading them apart and exposing the dark line of Al's cleft. Impatiently, he adjusted himself, taking his first look at Al's entrance. The thought of hot tightness, slowly widening and invaded by his cock, of pushing forward and retreating until Al was ready for some last hard and savage thrusts, flushed him with a tide of arousal. 

He retreated further on the cushions, bending down to caress the puckered skin with his lips and tongue, slicking it with saliva. Fighting for restraint while being spurred on by Al's sounds of delight and desperation, he took his time to work him open. Lips, tongue, fingers, a Lube Charm performed by Al, and slowly, the tight ring of muscle relaxed. Al cried out as Draco touched him with the leaking tip of his dick for the first time. He slid it down the length of Al's cleft, then circled his hole, guiding his cock with a hand that was hot and shaky with desire. Al was almost sobbing when Draco finally started to push in. 

Draco bit into Al's shin which rested on his shoulder, to stifle his ragged moan when the head of his cock pushed through. Al clenched around him in instinctive defiance, but his legs closed tight around Draco's neck, and he tried to pull him further in.

"No," Draco croaked. He would lose it if he moved the slightest bit, would ruin it for Al by thrusting into him like mad. 

"Yes!" Al said, pushing himself against Draco with a sudden move of his strong legs, and that did it for Draco. It was too tight at first, making him want to retreat, but Al clamped his legs tight around Draco and made him go on. Draco shook with the effort of self-control, but when he realised Al was also quivering, arching tensely upwards under his touch and letting out a moan of utmost need, he let go. He slid all the way in and stars exploded across his vision as he looked down to see himself buried deep inside Al. 

Al's gaze was hazy when he met his eyes, yet full of concentration, as if he wanted to consciously catalogue every second of pleasure. Draco smiled down at him, wickedly curling the edges of his mouth as he reached for Al's cock. Rolling his hips, moving his cock inside Al without retreating, he changed angle and pressure with every small thrust. He stroked Al's bulging erection, ran his calloused palm up and down his length and curled his fingers over the sensitive upside where a thick vein ran in a crooked line from root to tip. It was slippery with pre-come and lube, and the scent of sex mingled with the ozone in the air.

When he thought Al was gone far enough, he started fucking him in earnest, driving into him with long, deep thrusts, spurred on by the needy sounds that came from Al's mouth. Al writhed beneath him, and Draco held on to a last thread of control and slowed down his rhythm to concentrate on what Al wanted. He let go of Al's dick to pull him up a bit further and thrust in again, to be rewarded with a choked moan.

"Just like— Yes. Yes!" 

Without touching Al's dick again, Draco watched him come in long white spurts, accompanied by hoarse moans. He slammed into Al until heat flooded him and his world turned white at its edges. With a last fierce thrust he emptied himself into Al, holding his bucking hips and sinking down on him into the warm pool of semen on his belly, too spent and blissful to care.

Al's stomach heaved with his heavy breathing and his fingers combed through Draco's damp hair in a tender rhythm. It was soothing and peaceful, and Draco wished he could stay there forever, needing nothing else than the soft ripple of normal rain outside and Al's ministrations. With a sigh of contentment he propped himself up on his elbows, his chest glued to Al's skin for a moment by sticky liquid, to crawl up beside him eventually and kiss him. It was a soft kiss, open-mouthed but gentle, sealing their new bond. Al melted into it, still a bit breathless and gasping for air when Draco detached himself.

Tracing the seam of Al's lips with his fingers, Draco took in what made Al different – the slightly slanted brows, the hint of copper in his stubble, the sharper cheekbones and the more Ginevra-like shape of his teeth. Yes, it was Al who made his heart beat faster. Al, lithe and lanky, sharp-witted and stubborn, a beautiful man and a powerful wizard.

ooo

Draco sloshed listlessly through ankle-deep grey mud; the clingy mixture of ash and molten ice tried to tear his boots from his feet at each step. The magic was still down, and Al had shrunk their brooms which they had tucked away in the pockets of their cloaks. The air was still damp and thick fog hid the horizon from their view, leaving a thin layer of moisture on their clothes. 

Al was kicking up mud and Vanishing it with his wand. "What do you think we'll have to do when we reach the Ministry?" he asked, linking gloved fingers with Draco.

Draco lifted their joined hands and pressed Al's glove to his face mask, hoping Al would feel the kiss through the layers of dragonhide. "We have to find the prophecy, decipher it and do as it says. From the snippets we already heard, I guess we have to turn back time and change the course of events."

"Hell, I hope that prophecy comes with a detailed manual!" Al shook his head and shot a rainbow of sparks up into the fog.

Draco followed its high arc with his eyes, watching the sparks rain down and disappear. He was just about to tease Al a bit about his child-like love for rainbows, when his sweeping gaze caught a glittering spot in the distance. It approached quickly, weaving in and out of the swirling fog. Draco squinted, trying to get a clear view, but the glitter didn't allow him to make out what kind of creature they were about to face. Fingers of cold crawled down Draco's back because one thing was certain: it was more likely predator than prey. 

"Al!" 

Draco pointed into the direction of the glittering whatever-it-was, which grew larger by the second. It was coming from the north, maybe it was the dragon whose shadow they had seen crossing the Great Hall the day before. 

A dragon from the north… He had heard of breeds which thrived on the grim temperatures there, having adapted to a life among glaciers and ice deserts. Though after the solar flares, not much ice could be there any more. Draco chewed his bottom lip. What if—yeah, it seemed logical for creatures of the cold to infiltrate the southern realms. The opaque layer of ash clouding the sky blocked the sun effectively enough never to let rise temperatures to a comfortable level.

"A dragon, probably. A kind I haven't seen before. We have to hide."

ooo

Crouched under a Disillusionment Charm and a Protego, both cast by Al who was squatting beside him, Draco watched the glinting creature come closer. It flew straight towards them, long neck stretched in an elegant line of gleaming scales. To Draco's surprise, the wings didn’t have the leathery quality he knew from the dragons they regularly hunted in the Highlands, but were covered in sleek white feathers. 

"That’s strange," Draco whispered as the dragon seemed to come straight at them. "Doesn't seem like your Disillusionment Charm is doing us any good. What if he senses the dragon magic in your spells? Maybe it draws him to us… Oh, fuck!" He dragged Al to the ground, shielding his body with his own, as the dragon dived at them. The beast spread its wings at the last moment to avoid crashing into them, but tore the dome of their Protego apart with an iridescent claw. Gaining height, the dragon flew a wide circle to repeat the attack. 

"We have to split. Run!" Draco jumped to his feet and broke into a sprint, pushing Al into the opposite direction. The mud slowed him down, but he kept running, even when a harsh bellow made the earth tremble under his feet. Only when the next roar of the dragon sounded farther away did he turn around, drawing sword and dagger in a fluid motion. The battle yell died on his tongue as he caught sight of the scene in front of him. His blood ran cold and his heart stuttered in his chest. 

"Al…" 

It was barely more than a choked whisper, only the ghost of a name. Draco wanted to scream, to scare the dragon away from Al by the sheer force of his voice, but his throat was too tight, his tongue too paralysed.

It was too late. Though he hadn't come far, the distance was too great to be of any help.

Draco's arms fell down and the tip of his sword sank deep into the mud as he froze on the spot and forced himself to watch. 

This was his fault, he shouldn't have allowed Al to accompany him. An icy fist clenched around his heart, his eyes burned from the need to blink. But he would watch this, this would be the memory he would torture himself with for being so selfish to let Al come with him on his mission. And for having wasted so much time with feeling guilty and telling himself that loving Al was wrong. Fuck, these were desperate times, and he should have embraced love as the gift that it was. Love was the only thing that made this hard life worth living. It was so easy, he really wished he had seen it before: Harry wouldn't hate him for loving his son, but he would hate him for letting Al die. 

The dragon had flattened his wings to his sides and his white fangs glistened with saliva as he opened his jaws to catch Al. 

Draco blinked. Maybe, if he was fast enough… 

He dropped his gloves, lifted his bow and chose a potion arrow from his quiver. The long thin phial with the needle-sharp tip was smooth and cold between his fingers as he drew back the string. Aiming for the dragon’s gaping jaws, Draco exhaled and let go. 

Acid green liquid spread over the beast’s teeth as a hiss disturbed the ringing silence which had followed the first thunderous cry of the dragon. Turquoise ice, liquid and lively like a flame, burst from the dragon's maw. Al, a small black figure against the giant body of the beast, let out a blood-curdling yell.

"Stupefy!" 

A rainbow exploded from the tip of his wand, the sparks encasing the dragon and adding their shine and sparkle to the already blindingly-bright glow. But it was too late. The flame of ice hit his face. Hands pressed to his forehead, Al went down without a sound. 

Draco forced his numb legs into a run, lifting an arm to protect his face when the dragon hit the mud with a rich thud, sending high waves of ash slush in all directions. Al's Stunning Spell had worked, but the beast seemed unaffected by the potion. 

Cold air burned in Draco's lungs when he dropped to his knees, sliding on his shins through the last inches of mud to check Al's body for lethal wounds. He pulled down his mask and the shock of the chilly wind fretting over his damp skin helped to clear his head. At first glance, Al looked unhurt. Yet Draco wouldn’t allow himself to hope too soon. 

"Al! Al, can you hear me?" He gently chafed Al's wrists, his throat tight with fear of what he might see as soon as Al would lift his hands. 

"Let me see, Al. Please. Let me see." Draco tugged again at Al's gloves, gasping when Al's hands fell away at his touch without warning. The sharp edges of the ice flame had mauled his mask, had cut through the tough dragonhide as if it were the softest leather. Bloody shreds hid the real damage from Draco's eyes. And still, Al didn't respond neither to his words nor touch.

He imagined Al's handsome face cut and marred, and again there was that burning sting in his eyes. Blinking it away, he drew a deep breath and willed his nervous hands to steady. "Al, this might hurt. But I have to check your wounds. Stay as still as possible, okay?" 

Al didn't react.

Almost mad with worry, Draco tried to find some comfort in the fact that at least Al's breathing sounded normal. Bracing himself against what he might find, he lifted one of the shreds off Al's forehead. The leather, slippery from blood, revealed a deep cut over Al's left eye. Ragged and deep, but not lethal. 

Checking on the dragon, which was still lying motionless in the mud not far from them, Draco peeled the rest of the leather pieces from Al's face. No further wounds came to light. Using his own mask, he carefully dabbed at the blood on Al's face. Not as sterile or absorbent as he would have preferred it to be, but the best he had at hand as long as the magic stayed down. He wiped away the blood that had pooled in the corners of Al's closed eyes, then he crumpled the mask up and pressed it to the cut on Al's forehead to stop the bleeding. 

"Al?" Al didn't answer, not even with a groan. Draco nudged him with a knee, not wanting to take the pressure on Al's forehead off. Still no reaction. After a few minutes, he lifted the leather from the wound. Now that the blood was mostly gone, he could clearly see the damage caused by the dragon ice. 

Draco stared at the cut, unable to believe his eyes. If the cut would heal without further complications, Al would bear a lightning-shaped scar over his left eye for the rest of his life. 

Al stirred and lifted a hand to his head, wincing when he touched the wound. 

"Oh, thank Merlin, you're alright!" Draco helped him sit up, ignoring the ashy cascade running down from Al's hood and cloak which had protected him from getting too wet while lying in the mud. Al blinked, green eyes still a bit hazy, and Draco's heart sang when he saw the spark of life in them growing strong and bright once more.

ooo

"Where's the dragon?" Al asked, looking around. 

Draco cursed himself for having dropped his weapons, pulled the claw dagger from Al's belt and sprang up. Though Al's magic was exceptionally strong, it was possible that the Stunning Spell had worn off faster than usual because Al had been knocked out. 

But then he smiled. The bright halo was impossible to miss. A few steps away, where minutes before a giant dragon had threatened to eat Al alive, now a kitten-sized version of him almost drowned in the mud. Wings spread not to sink, the small dragon bared his fangs at Draco.

"I think you'll find him reduced to a minor problem," Draco said, stepping out of Al's line of vision and burying his hands in the pockets of his cloak. Al scrambled to his feet and blinked at the shrunken dragon. 

"I thought Shrinking Solution doesn't have an effect if one doesn't drink it. How did you do this?" Al didn't seem able to tear his eyes away from the spiteful little creature.

"Shot him in the open jaws. The glass smashed when it hit his teeth, and I guess he swallowed in reflex."

Now Al turned to Draco and looked at him incredulously. "You're kidding me."

"No." Draco shook his head and smirked. "He was about to eat you, I had to do _something_! It was a lucky shot, but it would've come too late if you hadn't stunned him."

"You're incredible."

"And so are you."

Al's face lit up in a bright smile, and Draco closed the distance between them with one large step to enfold the younger man in a tight embrace. "I'm very glad he didn't eat you," he whispered into the darkness between Al's ear and hood. 

Al's stubble scratched through his own when Al turned his head until their lips met. "Thank you," he murmured against Draco's mouth. Draco allowed himself to be kissed until he was dizzy and swayed on his feet as if he was the one who had been hit on the head. In dire need of air, he pulled away, cupping Al's head with his hands and pressing his forehead to Al's. "I'm really very glad he didn't eat you," he said. "And now I need to save my gloves and weapons before the mud swallows them completely."

When he came back, the pull of sword and dagger a comfortable weight at his belt, bow slung over his back and hands warming up in his gloves, Al had cleaned the mud from the dragon and was holding him on his fist like a falcon. Iridescent claws dug into the thick hide of his glove and the beast breathed a turquoise ice-flame at Draco's face when he bent down to take a closer look.

"Behave," Al said, and they both chuckled when the little creature sat down, looped his tail around Al's gloved wrist and hid his head under one wing. "May I introduce you to Jewel? Jewel, this is Draco; Draco, this is Jewel."

ooo

"Draco?" 

Draco sensed rather than heard the question. The wind had turned and was pressing their masks to their faces once more while trying to tear their hoods and cloaks from their bodies. Al's voice was vibrating through Draco as they were flying thigh-to-thigh, their boots nearly touching the slush beneath them. Jewel had dug his claws into Al's shoulder and his multi-coloured glimmer was a constant distraction at the edge of Draco's vision.

"Yes?"

"Is that… London?" Al pointed at the horizon where a ragged silhouette rose from the mud.

Draco's heart sank at the sight of it. He hadn't been able to imagine their capital as a city of burnt-out ruins, but of course the solar flares hadn't spared it. 

"Yes, though it's barely recognisable. But I'm sure the Ministry is still intact, at least some of the lower floors." He'd yelled his answer, and Al nodded to show he'd understood. 

They flew on in silence, through the remnants of the once beautiful metropolis. Not a single house was still standing, and Draco had to concentrate hard to find his way to the Ministry without the familiar landmark buildings to guide him. The streets were deserted, though he thought he saw figures moving in the shadows from time to time. Draco had to fight the urge to whisper, it was too easy to imagine evil things lurking behind hills of debris, looking for prey. 

"We must be very close now," he said, flinching at the sound of his own voice. It seemed too loud in the silence hanging over the blackened ruins, where not even the cawing of crows rent the air. Eaten, Draco thought. The birds were probably a welcome variation on any survivor's menu. 

Chewing on his lower lip, he checked their surroundings for remnants of the shabby offices or the pub located in the dingy street leading to the red telephone box which served as entrance to the Ministry. His gaze swept up and down the alley, noticing nothing which in the slightest looked like a telephone box, and his shoulders tensed with dread that the Ministry was gone. He was about to give up and turn around to tell Al that they had to leave without having accomplished anything, when a dark square on the ground caught his eye. 

Draco landed and got off his broom, Al following his lead. Shouldering his broom, Draco walked to what he thought must have been the bottom plate of the telephone box. "I don't know if it's working, but we have to try. Let's step on it together."

They both stepped on the metal square and as soon as they stood still, they had to grab each other's arms because it dropped so abruptly that they almost toppled over. When it came to a halt in the Atrium of the Ministry, Draco found he couldn't move an inch.

"Hello, hello. Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. In the name of the Minister of Magic, I apologise for any inconveniences, but given the situation we have to maintain severe security measures. I'll check and register your wands now, and—"

Eric Munch, who had been manning the security stand as long as Draco could remember, had pulled down their face masks while talking, and Draco would have smiled at Mr Munch's face if he hadn't been locked in the Stunning Spell. The man's mouth hung open and his eyebrows were nearly touching his hairline. It was nice to see a familiar face. And judging by what Draco's frozen angle of sight allowed him to see, everything else was also just like it had always been.

Mr Munch schooled his features and cleared his throat, clapping his hands together and resting his chin against his fingertips. "Mr Malfoy and the young Mr Potter! What a pleasure! I'm sure the Minister will want to see you immediately. _Finite Incantatem_."

Draco straightened up and adjusted his cloak. Smiling, he held out his wand to the older wizard and gestured for Al to do the same. 

"Nice to see you, too, Mr Munch. We've had a long flight down from Hogwarts, and after all the ruins and ashes it's really good to see that the Ministry is still intact."

"It may look like nothing has changed, Mr Malfoy, but believe me, we had great losses even down here. We're still recovering." Mr Munch waved for them to follow him to the security stand. Their footsteps echoed through the large room, and Draco realised that not everything was as it had been. Where once the Atrium had been buzzing with the voices and sounds of witches and wizards meeting for a break at the fountain or chatting while waiting for one of the lifts or in front of a fireplace, now only once-shiny floorboards and emptiness met his gaze. 

Mr Munch registered Draco's wand and made a surprised sound when he turned to Al's. "Very interesting, Mr Potter. I've never seen a wand like this before. What is it made of and where did you get it?"

"Mr Malfoy made it for me. We're out of wood in the Highlands, the solar flares burned down the Forbidden Forest, and we've already stripped the castle of anything non-essential that could be used for fuel. Nowadays, we rely on dragonbone."

"I see." Mr Munch gave the wand back and opened the golden gate for them. "The Minister will await you. I trust you still know the way, Mr Malfoy?"

ooo

Draco's mouth was dry, though he had drunk more tea in the past two hours than during the last two years. He couldn't remember when he'd last talked so much. Minister Shacklebolt had fired question after question at them, and it had taken them the better part of an hour to explain their mission to him. 

"Why is always a Potter involved when it comes to prophecies?" The Minister's dark eyes rested on Al. "I still can't believe that Harry is dead. Seems like it's up to you to save us, Albus. More tea?" He lifted the delicate china pot which seemed to refill as soon as a cup had been poured, in an inviting manner. 

"Er, yes, thank you." Al shifted uncomfortably in his armchair, looking tortured.

Draco decided against telling the Minister that it was actually him whom the prophecy had chosen to be the saviour this time. If believing another Potter would save the world they all loved made the Minister more compliant, so be it. 

"I'm sure Al won't disappoint you, Minister, " he said. "As we need full and undisturbed access to the Hall of Prophecy, the Planet Room and the Time Room, it would be very helpful if we didn't have to deal with any of the Unspeakables. We can't lose more time by convincing each single staff member down there of our cause." 

"I see," the Minister said, rubbing his chin where the silvery hue of his five o’clock shadow betrayed his age. Then his face lit up with a smile. "Well, that won't be a problem. I'll summon them for a meeting and keep them busy until you're done."

ooo

"All right," Al said, putting the glass orb containing Trelawney's prophecy back onto the shelf in the Hall of Prophecy. "It's like you already assumed. We have to turn back time. Trelawney says we can't prevent the solar flares from happening, but we can protect the earth." 

"Yes." Draco sighed. "I'd hoped there might be more, things that Minerva's version no longer showed clearly because of her age, but …"

"But there isn't," Al interrupted him, smiling wryly. Then he clapped his hands once, his expression shifting back to fierce determination as he squared his shoulders. Jewel squawked in protest, his tail lashing as he scrabbled for a firmer hold. "Okay then. Where do we go first, Planet or Time Room?" 

Al absently soothed the small dragon with a few pats, and Draco had to suppress his own smile.

"Let's go to the Planet Room first. Who knows if we'll be able to leave the Time Room once we've played around with whatever we'll find there. Did Trelawney really say we should look out for a hummingbird? Why would they keep a bird in the Time Room?" Draco turned around to walk to the exit. Their footsteps rang in the quiet room and the thousands of prophecies cast a ghostly light on their path. 

"I have no idea." Al's voice sounded hollow. "It's all very strange. Look at all these prophecies! I don't even want to imagine what they all might be about. One is enough for a lifetime!"

Draco opened the door to the circular room which was the centre of level nine. Candles cast blue light across the polished floor, giving so perfect an impression of standing water that he instinctively slowed his step. Al groaned at the sight of the twelve identical black doors all around the perimeter and stopped the door they had just gone through from falling shut behind them with his foot. Feigning reluctance, he slumped against Draco's side and placed his chin on Draco's shoulder. 

"Oh no, not again."

"What? I thought you'd jump for joy at the prospect of another round of Revolving Doors, the main attraction down here." Draco nudged him in the ribs, but softened the gesture by turning his head and pressing a kiss to Al's cheek, skating the edge of coarse stubble.

"I wouldn't mind the revolving if they'd stop where they started. What I hate is that we have to rely on luck to find the Planet Room. Because they'll revolve again whenever we close one of these doors, right?" 

"Yeah, patience is an often underestimated virtue. Just like being free of dizziness. Shall we start?" Draco exchanged a glance with Al, who grimaced and pulled his foot out of the gap between wall and door. 

Jewel gave an annoyed hiss when the walls started spinning, causing Al to step back. Draco grabbed Al's hand and kept his gaze on the blue light illuminating the floor. There was no use in watching the blur of wall pieces and doors, it would only give him a headache. He looked up again when the whirring faded and the boundaries of the room came to a halt.

Pressing a flat hand to the smooth surface of the door in front of them, Draco asked, "Ready?" When Al murmured his agreement, he pushed the door open just wide enough to catch a glimpse of what was inside. Pearly-white brains drifted in an enormous glass tank of deep green liquid. He let the door fall shut and braced himself for the next round of spinning doors.

After the fourth time, even Al looked a bit paler than usual and Jewel was close to vomiting, according to the noises he made. With a tired hand, Draco pushed the door open again and sagged against the frame in relief. 

"I think we found it."

He pulled Al inside and as soon as the door closed behind them, locking out the blue candle light, the illusion of deep space was perfect. Though the floor hadn't vanished under his feet, Draco got the impression he was floating in pitch-black darkness which made the room appear infinite in all directions. 

Eight planets orbited the sun. For once thankful for the many stupid planetary charts he had had to draw in Astronomy, Draco identified the smaller ones as Mercury, Venus, Earth and Mars, and the four giant ones as Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune. Jewel also gleamed and glittered like a star fixed on Al's shoulder, but even his colourful aura was too weak to brighten up the room.

The Earth, which should have shone blue, was a dull grey orb, shielded from the sunlight by an opaque layer of ash. Venus and Mercury looked even worse.

"She looks horrible!" Al's voice faded away as if sucked into space, sounding sad and broken. Draco squeezed his hand, glad for this warm anchor in the abysmal blackness, and Al twined their fingers together. Draco's heart clenched at the sight of the burned planets, and he wished he could cradle the earth in his hands and blow the ash from her beauty.

"We'll make her shine again," he said. "But she'll need the strongest Protego she can get. Will you do the honours of casting it? McGonagall was right, we need the magic of the most powerful wizard of our time for this!"

Al straightened up beside him, his cloak rustling against Draco's and causing Jewel to spread his wings and snarl in the attempt to keep his balance on Al's shoulder. "Of course." 

Draco sensed Al pulling his wand from his thigh holster, and then Al's voice filled the room, powerful and confident. "Protego!"

A rainbow sprang from the tip of Al's wand, bright enough to lighten up the room and make the walls visible for the blink of an eye. Draco watched in awe as the colourful sparks gathered around the Earth, building a new, protective layer around it: a shining armour.

Draco wanted to say something profound and meaningful, but he couldn’t find the right words and had to blink away a sting in his eyes. The earth wasn't a sad orb anymore, it was a fantastic new planet, sparkling brightly in the liveliest colours. Hope welled up in him, filling him up until he thought he would burst, and he wasn't sure if his voice would obey. Sometimes, he decided, dignified silence was the highest praise, and so he just squeezed Al's fingers again and lifted their entwined hands in the air in a gesture of triumph.

ooo

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Al stumbled into the Time Room after Draco and leaned against the wall. The scales of his cloak left visible scratches on the bricks as he slid down. Draco hunched his shoulders and ducked his head, eyes pressed shut at the ugly sound, only looking in Al's direction again when the younger man sat still with his head between his knees. Jewel had hid his head under one of his wings as if he also wanted to hide from the torturous noise. Al's voice sounded muffled when he said, "Eight rounds! McGonagall owes us big when we return!" 

Draco had to strain his ears to understand him, the words almost drowned in the ticking of innumerable clocks crowding every surface. Glad that he'd avoided watching the revolving doors, he said, "How bad is it? Do you need a sip of Pepper-Up? It does wonders if you need a bit of help clearing your head." 

"No, I'm fine." A whisper of scales announced Al getting up. A few seconds later, he stood beside Draco, exhaling audibly through pursed lips. "Wow!" 

"Indeed." 

The Time Room was very different from how Draco had imagined it. There was nothing orderly or majestic about it. Instead, dancing diamond-sparkling light filled the air and reflected off the faces of clocks of all sizes, which were hanging in spaces between bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room. 

At the far end of the room Draco detected the source of the light: a huge crystal bell jar which seemed to be full of a billowing, glittering wind that carried a small object. He pointed at it. "Look, I think that's what Trelawney wants us to shatter. I wonder what's in there…"

He weaved through the desks, following the narrow path that led to the bell jar. 

"This is a fucking maze," Al said as they made slow progress, careful not to sweep any of the clocks on the tables to the ground with their cloaks or weapons. The ticking was hypnotic; Draco had to shake his head from time to time to keep his senses alert. 

He almost was caught by surprise by two large, black-clad figures which approached them from the left. Drawing his wand, he swiped a dozen small clocks from the nearest table. The sound of them smashing on the ground reverberated through the room, and his heart skipped a beat when all other clocks stopped ticking. Like a bad omen, the silence hung over them. A shadow seemed to dim the light, but then thousands of new diamond-sparkles rose from the crashed clocks and added their shine to the dancing light, making it brighter than before. The ticking set in again and Draco shook his head, staring down at the mess of shards and clock-parts. 

"Draco, it's only our reflections," Al said, putting a hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco blinked, then tucked his wand away. Al was right, what he had thought were two attackers, sentries protecting the source of time, were only their images mirrored on the glass-front of a large case full of Time-Turners.

"Sorry," Draco said, unsure to whom he was apologising, Al or the room or time itself. Wiping his forehead, he added, "I hope I didn't… I don't know… disturb the balance of time, or something." He gestured at the glass and metal pieces scattered across the floor. 

Al shrugged. "So what? We have to shatter the damn thing anyway. But if it makes you feel better… _Reparo!_ " The familiar rainbow-coloured sparks shot from his wand and the clocks put themselves together, until all of them stood on the desk again, ticking away peacefully. 

Draco let out a relieved laugh and opened the case to take one of the smaller Time-Turners. It was heavy, much heavier than he'd expected it to be. He closed his fingers around the cold metal. 

"Right. So let's do what we came here for."

He briskly walked the rest of the way, eventually stopping in front of the bell jar. Al stepped up beside him, standing so close that his body heat warmed Draco's skin along the line where their arms and legs touched. 

"Look," Draco whispered.

The tiny object carried by the wind in the jar they'd seen from afar was a hummingbird. Draco exchanged a smile with Al as Jewel stretched his neck and nearly twisted it while watching the bird moving through an endless loop. At the bottom, the hummingbird was within its egg. As it rose, it hatched and grew into a mature bird by the time it reached the apex of its path. On the way back down, it became a fledgling bird and then re-entered its egg, which reformed around it. That process repeated over and over again. 

"Fascinating," Al said, tugging on Jewel's tail when the small dragon blew a cold flame at the bell jar. "But what now?"

Draco worried his lower lip. "I think this is the moment when we simply have to trust the prophecy." He pulled his sword and raised it up high in the air to bring it down on the glass, but Al grabbed his arm before he could complete the swing. "Wait." 

Lowering his sword arm, Draco cupped Al's cheek with his free hand and looked him in the eyes. "What is it? You look worried. Are you afraid?"

"No, er, ... yes, maybe." Al avoided his gaze, shifting from one foot to the other. "Just… what becomes of us when we turn back time? Doesn't it mean that we'll forget about everything that happened during the last two years? I don't want to lose… what we have… you…" Al's voice was barely audible in the end. The sparkling light danced across his face as he looked up, enhancing the pallor of his skin and the green fire of his eyes. "Are you looking forward to being with Dad again?"

"Ah." Draco smiled and ran his thumb along the ridge of Al's cheekbone. "I understand. But I have a feeling that we won’t be part of the new thread of time we'll create. In this room, we're … outside of time, beyond it. Our world will still be the same grey orb when we return to the surface." 

Al just looked at him, an unspoken question lingering between them. Draco nudged Al's nose with his. "And I wouldn't want it any other way," he said. 

Al broke from his stasis, slung his arms around Draco and pressed their lips together. It was a frantic kiss, messy and wet, as if Al needed to make sure that Draco knew where he belonged. When the clashing of teeth and battling of tongues turned into a slow dance of longing, Draco gently retreated. 

"Shall we?"

Al nodded, wiping his mouth and flashing a smile at Draco. "Together, okay?"

They both hit the glass jar bell with their swords. It broke into only a few big shards which hovered in the air as if waiting to be allowed to snap back into place again. Not so the hummingbird. It seized its chance and aimed for a gap between two shards, flying through a rain of diamond sparks which sank to the surface of the table as the wind stopped. Draco heard Al inhale as the whirr of its small wings died just when the bird passed the gap. 

Al caught the small body in his cupped hands. "Oh no," he said, showing it to Draco. "It's dead! What do we do now?" 

Draco tilted his head and pointedly looked from the bird to Jewel.

"What? He shall eat it?" Al's eyes grew big in consternation. "You can't be serious! This is the hummingbird of time, it's not… dragon food!"

"No," Draco said. "That's not what I was thinking, though it's a great idea, by the way. Why not, it's dead. Give it to him. He hasn't eaten since I shrank him, and he's probably starving."

Draco's lips twitched in amusement when Al shook his head but did as he had said. Jewel devoured his meal with obvious delight while Al frowned at the mess of feathers and blood on his shoulder. 

"Okay, let's concentrate on our job." Draco took the Time-Turner he had grabbed earlier and set it to the day before the solar flares had hit. "If I'm right…" he murmured, shoving the Time-Turner into the centre of the broken bell jar, "...this should work. _Reparo!_ "

The shards joined and in no time the crystal jar shone in the sparkling light like it had never been broken. 

"What do you think is going to happen now?" Al asked, stepping closer. 

"The glittering wind— Ah, look. It begins!" Draco grabbed Al's arm and bent forward until the coolness of the glass was soothing his heated face. 

The sparkling light encased in the jar stopped its playful dance and started turning like a whirlwind, only in the opposite direction than before. The faster the fingers of the Time-Turner raced around and around, the faster the storm whirled. 

Draco allowed himself to relax, just to tense up again when he heard a noise that sent a chill down his spine. It sounded as if an army of giant bugs was rushing towards them. With a shudder that made the scales of his cloak rustle, he looked around, leaning heavily on Al when it hit him that it was only the frantic backwards ticking of the clocks. Their fingers were moving so fast they were only blurs behind the faces.

It was a shock when the noise stopped. Draco's ears rang in the abrupt silence and he had to blink several times and roll his shoulders to shake off a trance-like stupor. The manic dance of shadows across the walls came to a halt, and the room was completely still. Until Al cleared his throat. 

"Uh, that was… unpleasant."

Jewel appeared from his hideaway under his wings and sniffed the air.

"Yes, my shiny friend, now it's your turn," Draco said to him. "You are going to have the honour of becoming the dragon of time."

Al protested, plucking the small creature from his still blood-smeared shoulder. Cuddling Jewel and stroking his wings, he threw a reproachful look at Draco. "You can't be serious. No way can Jewel do what that hummingbird was doing!"

"I'm sorry, I know you've grown fond of him. Me too, believe me, he's a cute little thing. But just like us, he has a role in this mission, probably the most important one. When he swallowed the Shrinking Solution, he already went through half of the process, he only needs to take another sip to return to his initial form, the egg. With the rest, the wind of time will help."

Draco pulled a phial from his belt and opened it, pouring a small amount of the potion into his palm. Holding Al's gaze he asked, "Okay?" and stretched his arm out for Jewel to drink when Al nodded his solemn agreement. 

Jewel lapped up the few droplets of green liquid and with a surprised squeal shrunk and shrunk in Al's arms, until Al held an egg in his hands.

ooo

Draco took Al's hand and twined their fingers together as they stood in front of the huge crystal bell jar and watched Jewel performing his endless time-loop. The clocks were ticking, the sparkling light danced, and if it weren't for the tiny dragon and some hummingbird feathers Al had brushed from his shoulder, the room would look as if nothing had happened. 

"I think we're finished here," Draco said. "Time to go home."

"No, we aren't." Al's eyes were alive with their own sparks, and a wicked smile played on his lips. "And we have all the time in the world."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment here or on [livejournal](http://hp-nextgen-fest.livejournal.com/95054.html).


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